


Of Rocky Starts and Smooth Finishes

by paradoxicalconverse



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Climbing, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Smut, also Waverly swears like a sailor, also they're younger, bc otherwise they couldn't compete in regionals, if you're in it for the smut just go to chapter 7, like 17/18 instead of in their 20s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-09 07:01:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14711345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paradoxicalconverse/pseuds/paradoxicalconverse
Summary: “I don’t have time for this.” Waverly’s halfway through lacing up her shoes and she’ll be damned if Nicole slows her down again. She turns to head to the opening in the wall, faltering a moment to spin back and glare at Nicole. “But for the record, I didn’t do it. I don’t like you, but I’m not an asshole.” She takes a moment, as if deciding her next plan of action, then turns away, tacking on a, “And fuck you for thinking that I did.”Nicole and Waverly and both competitive climbers with a lil more at stake than a title (hint hint it's their feelings)I'm absolute shit at summaries. But it's enemies to lovers, it's sporty, and I know what y'all are about.





	1. Standards

**Author's Note:**

> The bottom of each chapter will contain a brief explanation of each climbing term I used in that chapter because climbers have wild names for things but always feel free to ask question either on my tumblr or in the comments if there's something you don't understand! Also, if you have anything in particular or plot points (major or minor) you'd like to see, let me know! Super open to suggestions. Or a title idea. Also welcome. 
> 
> Further, because of adhd hell brain, chapters are probably going to be rather short for the most part. I'll try to keep them above 1000 words each time but we'll see. To make up for it, I'm good at writing smut (I hope) which will be a long chapter whenever it comes.
> 
> Also, the subsections within the chapters will start being longer too, I just have to get the whole story started first and foremost and then they will start being longer.
> 
> Further, a BIG thank you to lflorez21_haught, Shelluk81, and my wonderful girlfriend for helping me figure out a title!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr [here](https://please-say-nine.tumblr.com)

“That was cute.” A crumpled piece of paper hits Waverly’s knee and bounces to the floor, landing among the chalk pile she has managed to nervously collect. “Sticking it in my chalk bag when I wasn’t looking. But you’re going to have to try harder than that to throw me off my game.”

Against her better judgement—Waverly  _ knows  _ that voice, damn it, and never likes a single damn thing that it says—she uncrinckles the paper as she stands and turns towards its owner.  _ Dyke  _ is scribbled in heavy black ink, graying slightly from the chalk it’s soaked in. “What?”

“Look.” Nicole’s smile is predatory as she takes the piece of paper back and drops it into her chalk bag. “I know you don’t like me, Earp, and I’m not your biggest fan either, but that was a low blow, even for your standards.” 

“I don’t have time for this.” Waverly’s halfway through lacing up her shoes and she’ll be damned if Nicole slows her down again. She turns to head to the opening in the wall that will ultimately decide today’s fate, faltering a moment to spin back and glare at Nicole. “But for the record, I didn’t do it. I don’t like you, but I’m not an asshole.” She takes a moment, as if deciding her next plan of action, then turns away, tacking on a, “And fuck you for thinking that I did.”

When she sees Nicole an hour and a half later after the competition is over, she’s surprised to note that Nicole has taped the piece of paper brazenly over her chest.

* * *

 

“Impressive dryfire, Earp. Second to last hold, right? Did it take off a finger?”

Waverly freezes at the sound of her voice. Her hands are still shaking from the adrenaline rush, fighting to shove her water and chalk into her gym bag and get the hell out of there. “Are you actually asking, or did you just come over here to mock me?” She zips up her bag and spins. 

“Maybe a little bit of both.” Nicole shrugs, but it turns into a smirk a little quicker than Waverly would appreciate. “All in good fun, right?” There’s a certain sting to her voice parallel to how a cat might also consider cornering a mouse fun.

“You’re an ass, Haught.” Waverly replies. 

Nicole furrows her brow. “No, you said that wrong. It’s,  _ You’re a hot ass _ .” She crosses her arms over her chest, effectively covering the makeshift sticker made from climbing tape and determination. 

“Are you done?”

Nicole analyzes her for a moment, reveling in the way Waverly squirms under her gaze. “Sure hope that shaking is from the climbing.” As much as Waverly hates to admit it, Nicole’s smile is something else, and okay, so maybe a  _ little  _ bit of the shaking is due to close proximity to someone she has yet to admit she is attracted to. 

“Adrenaline rush,” Waverly snaps back. It’s quicker than she intended it to be and she can feel the onsets of a blush creeping over the back of her neck. Her hands begin to shake a bit more.

With a bit of convincing, she’s able to to tell herself it’s from anger.

* * *

 

“It was that  _ fucking  _ barn door that got me,” Waverly hisses. The shredded skin on the tip of her fingers is a clear indication of her dryfire off the second-to-last move from the top, securing Nicole directly into first and her, once again, into second. 

Which Nicole had been all too quick to point out, anyway.

“Jesus, take a breather. I’m still proud of you.” Wynonna is well aware Waverly’s beyond consolation at the moment. A little banter here and there never hurts, but the vast majority of her anger always ends up dissipating by the next morning. “Go for a run. Shake it off.”

Waverly isn’t listening. “She fucking beat me again. All because she got lucky and—”

“We both know that wasn’t luck, babygirl.”

The look Waverly shoots her is strong enough to kill. 

“And some douchebag wrote ‘dyke’ on a piece of paper and stuck it in her chalk bag when she was warming up and she thought I did it, which, like, okay, so I can be a  _ bit  _ of a prick sometimes but I’m not  _ that  _ much of a prick.” Waverly huffs and leans back against the car seat. The windows to the jeep are rolled down and the top is off, whipping her hair into her face as if to taunt her for losing. 

Wynonna’s hand adjusts on the steering wheel. “It was a hard set, and you topped out both of the other climbs.  _ One  _ foot cut, Waves. That shit happens to the pros.”

“That shit doesn’t happen to Nicole.” It’s callous, muttered under her breath as she slumps back. 

Wynonna pretends not to hear it.

* * *

 

The last person Waverly wants to see at six o’clock in the morning when she gets up to train is Nicole  _ fucking _ Haught, but there she is, hands dipping into her chalk pot before wiping against her legs to get the extra off. She’d hoped the gym would be empty when she arrived, as it usually is at the asscrack of dawn, but it’s like Nicole is  _ spiting  _ her. 

Waverly tries her best not to notice and sets about to loudly throwing her gym bag onto the bench. If she’s going to be sharing this space with Nicole she may as well let her know that she damn well isn’t pleased about it. 

Nicole still has yet to actually get on the wall by the time Waverly has made her way over. “I didn’t know you could read,” she snarks. 

“Books?” She doesn’t tear her eyes from the wall. 

“Anything. Wall included.”

“All this talent doesn’t come from pure luck,” she replies. “Guess you saw a little snapshot of that yesterday when I read well enough to avoid the dryfire you didn’t. How’s that finger doing, by the way?”

Waverly’s face grows hot. “That’s not what happened.”

Nicole chalks up again. Sunlight streams lazily in through the ceiling vent, illuminating the clouds of chalk she kicks up when she draws her hand from her bag and claps them together. As much as Waverly despises herself for admitting it, Nicole is almost ethereal looking. Stark red hair and legs that stretch for miles, always covered in chalky handprints reminiscent of hours spent slaving away at the gym, torn hands and bloody fingers be damned. “Sure as shit looked like it, sweetheart.” She makes her way to the wall and turns back around to smile, all too cheeky for Waverly’s taste. She’s toying with her. “You missed the heel out left.”

Waverly glares. 


	2. Still Kickin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicole takes a bit of an unexpected crash landing. Wynonna makes a few plans Waverly isn't all too pleased with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is this going in an ok direction? are you guys liking it so far? anything you guys wanna see?

This whole thing with Waverly Earp has gotten entirely out of hand, Nicole decides.

She’d shown up to _apologize_ for thinking Waverly called her a dyke, at six o’clock in the _fucking morning_ , but then Waverly had appeared wearing the shortest pair of spandex she had ever seen and a tank top that admittedly made her chest and biceps look fantastic and Nicole couldn’t even look directly at her without blushing, so she had kept her eyes trained on the wall and pretended to read a climb she was going to flash anyway (which she did).

That, of course, had given Waverly the prime opportunity to get back at her with the whole, _I didn’t know you could read_ , comment and the idea of apologizing went out the window.

And now Nicole is dumbfounded, laying dazed on the mat beneath the wall that she could’ve _sworn_ she was on only seconds ago.

“Impressive dryfire, Haught,” she hears, drawled out and malicious. _Oh god. Waverly saw._ “Did it take off a finger?”

Nicole binks slowly, trying to find the source of the noise. “You don’t get to use my own line against me.”

“I do when you dryfire so hard you leave some blood on the hold. Like damn, Haught. I’m almost impressed.” Waverly’s face pops into vision. Nicole wants to cry, she looks so beautiful, milk chocolate hair swirling around her face and the tiniest bit of chalk stuck to the tip of her nose. _Knock it off, Haught._ Her voice comes again, softer, when Nicole doesn’t reply. “Are you okay?”

“I think so.” The ascent to her feet is slow and wobbly, her head throbbing and somewhere behind her eyes pounding. It takes her a moment to realize she’s leaning on Waverly for stability. “Guess that rivals the fall you took yesterday. Almost.”

“Jesus, you’re something else.” Waverly surreptitiously places a hand on Nicole’s lower back to keep her upright, then steps back and rolls her eyes. “You’re even annoying when you’re possibly concussed. God damn.” She clicks her tongue in frustration for good measure and saunters away.

Nicole pretends not to notice the burning imprint of a hand on her back she left as she leaves.

* * *

“Hey, Haughtstuff.” Nicole’s head shoots up from the book she’s pretended to bury herself behind, hunkering into the corner of the only coffee shop in town, a novel and a restless mind in tow. Her chai has gone cold next to her, a slight pink tint around the rim the only indication that she took it upon herself to enjoy the drink at all. She had the full intention of drinking it, but a certain brown-haired someone kept crossing her mind to the point where she lost focus in anything that wasn’t Waverly at all.

A _rather_ inopportune time to get a crush, what with regionals approaching.

“Wynonna?” Wynonna’s hands curl around what Nicole assumes is a cup of black coffee with a splash of whiskey (it’s Purgatory, everyone knows they keep it behind the counter next to a bottle of spray cheese and a homemade taser) and she smiles as she takes a seat across the table. “Is Waverly with you?” She hopes her casual glance around is just that— _casual._ Untelling of how her heart rate speeds up at the possibility, of how badly she wants to see a flash of coffee brown hair next to her sister.

“No, she’s back at the Homestead.”

It’s both a relief and a curse. “Oh. Well, if you’re here to lecture me about berating your sister for the note that she didn’t put into my chalk bag, I already feel bad and I’m really not in the mood—”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” The words are biting but her tone is friendly, leading Nicole to believe that perhaps her arrival here isn’t of malicious intent. _Thank god._ Wynonna can be nasty when she needs to be, if what Waverly’s previous boyfriends have to say about her are any indication. The thought of Waverly with a boy leaves a sour taste in her mouth. “Waves told me you took a pretty nasty fall this morning. Maybe got a concussion. I just wanted to come by and make sure you were still kickin’.”

 _Waverly had talked about her?_ “Oh—no—yeah, I’m fine. Still, uh, kickin’. Took off a bit of skin but nothing too serious.” She adjusts in her seat uncomfortably underneath Wynonna’s gaze, who seems complacent with staring Nicole down until she cracks. _Holy shit, Waverly had talked about her._ Her attempt to ignore the sudden flurry of butterflies in her stomach fails to go unnoticed.

She can’t quite read the smile Wynonna gives her; something along the lines of the sound of shattered glass. Beautiful and dangerous, entirely too intense for the situation at hand. “Good, good. Because you’re coming over for dinner tonight.”

It’s not a question.

Nicole knows she would have said yes even if it was.

* * *

“You did _what?_ ”

“Can you relax? I invited her over for dinner, not gave her your hand in marriage.” Wynonna seems to think about it for a second, a grin beginning to split her lips. “But god, could you imagine the headlines? ‘Local flatfoot rooky marries Earp extraordinaire’s sister’.”

“You’re fucking ridiculous. I can’t believe you invited her over for dinner.”

“I didn’t even tell you the best part yet.” There’s something inhuman in Wynonna’s eyes, a fire reserved only for special occasions—this _definitely_ shouldn’t be one of them, and _yet_. She winks at Waverly. “I told her to wear something nice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> flash- doing a climb first try. so if you flash a climb, you went up and did it first try without falling  
> comp- short for competition


	3. Sculptures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wynonna reveals why she asked Nicole to come over for dinner. Waverly lets something slip to Nicole that she didn't mean to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I start putting the climbing turns in the beginning notes so you guys can read them and then the chapter, or are the bottom notes okay? I went climbing today for the first time in about two weeks because I just got my first tattoo (which is going to make a cameo in a later chapter on a certain someone) and you can't climb with a healing tattoo or it'll stretch. but since I went climbing, inspiration struck and I figured I owed you guys an update.

_Okay,_ Waverly thinks, _So having Nicole across the table in a dress isn’t_ too _bad._ She’s all curves and angles, like a sculpture come to life, hair crimped and falling beautifully around her face. It’s almost unfair how good she looks. _No one_ should look that good eating take out Chinese from the box.

“I wasn’t aware Chinese constituted a need to dress up,” Nicole says, fingers working dexterously to scoop some rice onto her chopsticks. Waverly tries not to think too hard about why she notices it so painstakingly, or the fact that a jolt of electricity shoots up her spine as Nicole’s tongue darts out to curl around her food.

“Well, only the best for you,” Wynonna replies. She works her way carefully around the tofu Waverly insisted had been a better swap for shrimp. “I wanted to see if you owned any articles of clothing other than tight-ass spandex and workout shirts. And look! You do.”

“Leave her alone, Wynonna.” Nicole glances up in surprise, and even Waverly’s face flushes red, but she keeps talking. “Only I get to mock her.” It’s a jibe that hits its mark perfectly, a smile splitting Nicole’s face in two as she matches Waverly’s blush and turns down to look at her food.

“I’ll put you on your ass, Earp.”

“After this morning’s fall straight to your head? I’d like to see you try to stand up without getting dizzy—”

“Oh my god.” Wynonna’s fork hits her plate with a clatter. “Could you both stop flirting for thirty seconds so I can explain why I asked Haughtstuff here? Jesus.” She breathes out once, heavily, then clears her throat. “You two clearly have some…strong emotions towards each other regarding your climbing abilities. I think you should start training together. Fuel that hate fire into actually getting shit done. And you’re both competitive as hell, which, don’t get me wrong, is also _annoying_ as hell, but you’ll get stronger and regionals is coming up.”

Nicole is the first to break the silence, setting her box of vegetarian lo mein down and wiping some sauce from her lips. “That’s actually not a terrible plan. We’re usually at the gym at the same too, so it wouldn’t be an inconvenience.”

“I don’t know…”

Nicole is surprised to note the heavy blush beginning to seep across Waverly’s chest, dripping down into a neckline that drops _just_ far enough to force Nicole to keep her eyes from wandering; but those _fucking_ collarbones.

“Scared of getting your ass kicked in training now instead of just comps?” Something in Waverly’s eyes flash, and Nicole wonders if she’s taken it too far.

“As if you have any chance against me in regionals.” The relentless banter is back, all too soon and not soon enough.

“The last two comps would beg to differ.” Nicole’s gone back to her food, placidly ignoring the daggers Waverly is sending her way.

Waverly glowers.

* * *

Training the next morning goes exactly how Waverly expects it to; terribly.

The only caveat is that when Nicole trains, she forgoes a shirt entirely.

But other than that, she kicks Waverly’s ass. Nicole trains _hard,_ harder than Waverly anticipates. She’s able to keep up for the most part, an incipient sort of promise she had made herself the night previous that she wouldn’t let herself be the first one to quit, but she’s beginning to wonder if she’s going to have to redact that idea entirely after seeing the way Nicole disciplines herself.

“You gave me a run for my money, Earp,” Nicole says when they’re done. She’s breathing heavily, sweat coating her forehead and veins bulging against her arms, a reminder to Waverly to _never_ underestimate Nicole again. A towel is slung across an (unfortunately) re-shirted chest.“I’m impressed.”

“You train a lot harder than I thought you would.”

Nicole laughs and flexes her bicep jokingly. “These don’t come from luck.” Waverly can’t help but stare. _Jesus, please don’t let Nicole notice._ “Hey,” she continues. “I was thinking. It might be nice to coordinate schedules and talk about workouts and stuff. Exchange numbers.”

“I—yeah. For training purposes.” Waverly’s voice wobbles momentarily.

“Of course. Training purposes only,” Nicole replies, but something sounds off when she says it.

* * *

“Way to _fucking go,_ Wynonna, you’ve officially ruined my love for climbing.” Waverly yanks the car door open and throws her gym bag into the back seat before clambering in with an angry huff.

Wynonna glances up from her phone, hand at the ready to turn the keys in the ignition. The windows are still rolled down in the jeep and the top is still off, but somehow she’s still wearing leather pants that she’s no doubt overheating in. Classic Wynonna. “We haven’t even left the gym parking lot and you’re already mad? Damn. She must’ve really had it out for you.”

“I just. Ugh.” Waverly slumps back against the seat and covers her face with her hands. After an awkward goodbye with Nicole where they’d waved to each other and then ended up walking in the same direction anyway, all she wants to do is go home. Wynonna still hasn’t started the car, waiting for a further explanation. “She’s trains _so hard_ , Wynonna. And like, I train really fucking hard, you know I do, and she kicked my ass. And she fucking trains shirtless, which doesn’t help. She’s just so—”

“Haught?”

“Yes! And it’s infuriating, because I want to be mad at her when she flashes my projects or makes moves that I can’t, but then I get all distracted because she’s shirtless so I can see her biceps and her back and—”

“No, Waverly, I meant Haught as in—hi, Nicole—she’s right the fuck behind you.”

Waverly freezes, the blood draining from her face within seconds. She can’t bring herself to turn around, but her heart stops all together in her chest when Nicole speaks. Her voice is absolutely _gloating._

“So you think I’m hot?”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> flash- when you do something first try. when you're trying hard on a certain climb, called a "project," you usually can't do the whole thing first trey, hence why it's called a "project" aka, you work on it over time until you can do it. A flash means that you have never attempted that certain climb before, and you just go up and get to the top first try without falling
> 
> project- specifically a certain climb you have to work on over and over again to get. not everyone has the same project, and they can vary with how hard they are depending on how good the climber is.
> 
> I really hope you guys are liking where this is going so far! I finally have some semblance of an idea for where I want this story to go, so that's good news for you guys bc it means more frequent updates, I imagine. no promises tho


	4. Raspberry Burnetts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicole pays the Earp Homestead a visit and has an "almost" with Waverly. Wynonna drinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alcoholism and homophobia are rather strong themes in this chapter, so if you don't like that, then steer clear. Def lied in the last chapter when I said there would be more frequent updates but my life is falling to a little bit of shit right now so I promise I'm doing what I can.
> 
> There is no climbing in this chapter. In fact, this chapter is pretty heavy at the end, just so you guys know. It'll definitely pick up soon, but this part had to be done and it's depressing as shit.
> 
> Also I know Nicole needs to leave her shitty parents, but it'll all work out. you guys will see.

“If you’re here to bother me about the Haught comment again, I already heard an earful on the drive home with Wynonna and I’m not in a good fucking mood right now.” Waverly’s heart rate had initially picked up when she saw the dull green of Nicole’s truck appear over the hill to the Homestead. She’d shrouded herself in a blanket on the front porch, and her heart had positively began to try to burst through her chest when Nicole got out and made her way the the house.  

Nicole beams.

Waverly sighs and moves to go inside when Nicole steps up to her, getting read to vacate the swing bench before Nicole can take note of how red her face is turning (she notices anyway). “Did you follow me home?”

“What? The gym was hours ago. I went home and showered first. You don’t get to make fun of me and then try to flatter yourself in the same sentence.”

“So you decided that showering was the best preparation to come mock me?” Waverly pretends not to notice that Nicole smells like vanilla dipped donuts, but damn if it isn’t hard to do.

“I’m not here to talk about that,” Nicole says, stepping in front of Waverly so if she were to try to get off the bench she’d have to press herself into Nicole. It keeps her in place. Nicole hides her disappointment. Surprise flares up on Waverly’s face as she registers how soft Nicole’s voice is, as if speaking to a spooked animal. “I honestly came over to tell you that I had a wonderful time training with you this morning.” She takes a deep breath. “I like you, Waverly Earp. I _like_ you.”

“You’re just saying that because you heard me call you hot.” Waverly looks up from underneath her eyelashes, a smile beginning to appear, and Nicole swears Waverly can hear how loud her heart is hammering in her chest.

“That was absolutely a bonus, yes. But between you and me.” She holds out a hand and Waverly allows Nicole to pull her to her feet, letting out a surprised squeal when Nicole doesn’t step back and instead pulls Waverly flush against her own body. “I think you’re hot, too.”

 _This is it_ , Waverly realizes, and her heart thuds to a stop in her chest. _Holy shit, she’s going to kiss me._

“Someone defiled your car, Haughtstuff?”

“Wynonna!” She springs away from Nicole, mere inches from her face. Nicole can’t tell if Waverly is angry or surprised when she snaps out her sister’s name, but it’s presumably a little bit of both.

Wynonna is leaning out the window, a bottle of Raspberry Burnetts in hand, eyebrows crinkled together in concern as she looks out at Nicole’s truck. The word “DYKE” has been keyed into the driver’s door with an arrow pointing at the window above.

To exactly where Nicole sits.

“Yeah—it was like that when I went to drive here.” She shrugs. “It’s not a big deal. We’re in hick central, bound to get a few shit-heads here and there.”

“Do you know who did it?”

Nicole’s taken aback by how much concern Wynonna seems to radiate over some bullshit homophobia she’s had to tolerate her whole life. Besides, it’s _Purgatory_ ; it’s going to happen in a town with more horses than people anyway.

“No. But I’m assuming it was the same person who stuck the note in my chalk bag. It’s fine. Really. Shit happens.” Wynonna shakes her head and disappears for a second to reappear through the front door. The vodka in her hand is almost completely gone, but she offers the last dregs to Nicole, who seems to consider it for a moment then shakes her head. “Still gotta drive back home, Earp.”

The bitterness Waverly notes in her voice when she spits out the word _home_ has her reaching out and intertwining her fingers with Nicole’s, squeezing comfortingly. “You should stay for dinner. It’s nachos night and we don’t really ever have company over.”

Nicole turns to Wynonna, who’s still staring curiously at the truck. The bottle in her hands is borderline empty, but her knuckles are white with clenching it, as if she’s trying to shatter it through pure anger alone. Her next words slip out unintentionally. “You got some demons to drown, Wynonna?”

“Kid.” She takes a swig to fish out the last dregs of the bottle. Her mouth curls against the putrid taste. “You have no fucking idea.”

* * *

 

“I always pegged Wynonna as more of a whiskey kinda binger, but Burnetts? And raspberry? C’mon, even I know you have better taste than that,” Nicole says. Her hands and lips are greasy with nachos, but she’s smiling, and Waverly can’t help but note _exactly_ how beautiful Nicole Haught’s smile is. How beautiful _Nicole_ is.

“I’m a woman of many trades,” Wynonna replies. She pauses for a moment to stuff a cheese and bean coated chip in her mouth. “Plus, that shit is cheap, and I’ve never met an alcoholic with standards.”

Waverly frowns.

* * *

 The sun has disappeared well beyond the mountains by the time Waverly finds herself out front on the porch again with Nicole, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She’s offered it to Nicole but had been politely turned down every time. “Sorry about your car. We’ll find out who did it and we’ll give ‘em hell when we do. Wynonna will fuck them up.”

“I know who did it.”

The comment sidelines Waverly entirely. “What?”

Nicole is blatantly refusing to meet her eyes, staring at the rusted green of her truck as if she could remove the word through willpower alone. “I know who did it,” she repeats. “I found out after that comp when I went home and that piece of paper I blamed on you was still taped to my chest.”

“Jesus, Nicole, you don’t—you don’t think _I_ did it again, do you?”

“What? No! It was…” She takes a deep breath and shakes her head. “It was my fucking parents. I’m sorry I ever thought the note was you.” Her shrug resonates heavily against Waverly, despite the fact that only their hands are touching, fingers entwined. “We hated each other for whatever fucking reason, and it was easier thinking someone who didn’t like me did it instead of my parents who hated me for something I can’t change about myself anyway.”

Waverly’s lips feel glued shut. She pries them apart anyway. “I never hated you,” she says softly. It’s not the only thing she picks up from what Nicole says, but it’s the only thing she think she can face right now. “You were always better than me, so I worked hard and trained harder, but you always beat me. Every time. It was exhausting.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t like I made it easy on you. I was a bitch right back.” She laughs, and although it’s cold, it warms Waverly’s heart just a little bit. “I think it’s time to go home.”

“Well—hey. You can stay the night. Your parents—”

“Will kill me if I’m not home before eleven. They may not like that they have a lesbian for a daughter but it doesn’t mean they don’t notice if I’m out past curfew. I’ll see you tomorrow morning for training.”

Waverly falters. “I just don’t want you getting hurt.” It’s taken hours to say it, and it’s more of a whisper when it finally slips out. “I like you too, Nicole Haught.” Nicole must hear it, though, because a smile breaks over her lips.

“That’s good to know.”

“You’re fucking unbelievable. Oh my god.”

Nicole leans in close to Waverly and shrouds her in a quick hug. Her lips press into Waverly’s forehead, and she can still feel them burning a hole into her skull when Nicole pulls away before Waverly can retaliate and saunters to her car. It disappears over a hill and the quiet buzz of the Homestead returns.

Nicole sobs the entire way home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stress : - )


	5. Tattoos and Tales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waverly sees something and says something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so apparently a lot of you were confused about age. I always pictured them as a bit younger because you can't compete in regionals once you're older than 18, but it occurs to me that literally none of you would know that, so, from the bottom of my heart, my bad, I promise to do better clarification about that kinda stuff both In this fic and future pics where age is a relevancy.  
> Further, a lot of you guys are (for good reason) worried about Nicole's home situation. I can promise that a. it gets fixed and b. it has to happen in order for a LATER plot point to happen, but I can also promise that it will all work out in the end.  
> This chapter is much like all the other chapters, so no more sad shit. Hooray!  
> Please let me know what you think of the story so far. I really love and appreciate all your input!

“Oh, you have got to be _shitting_ me.”

“How is it _possibly_ still a surprise when I flash your projects, Earp?”

Waverly folds her arms over her chest. “It’s  _not_ , you arrogant asshole, it’s just—Jesus, do you get hotter? You have a fucking tattoo?”

Nicole does—it’s underneath the hemline of her sports bra, the bottom just managing to poke out when Nicole reaches out to stretch. The tiny ticks that surface at the bottom are a clear indication of some words, but it’s entirely impossible to tell what they are, and Waverly is a little less sure about the fact that she’s ‘just curious’ instead of ‘turned on at the thought that Nicole has ink.’ “I…yeah. I usually keep it hidden under my bra. I’m surprised you saw it.”

“Not all of it,” Waverly counters quickly. “I can only see the bottom. Show me the rest of it.”

“You really that desperate to see me topless, Earp?” Nicole’s grinning ear to ear as she chalks up. It’s more of a late practice this morning, which she’s secretly grateful for. The only reason she gets up at five in the fucking morning is to see Waverly at the gym, but she’s a night owl before anything else and sleeping in until eight this morning to meet Waverly at nine felt like a godsend. “You could’ve just asked.”

“Jesus, you can drop the act. We already admitted the other one was hot. I said I wanted to see your tattoo, not feel you up.” Waverly’s eyeroll is overdone and Nicole knows it, but she appreciates the sentiment regardless.

“You _could_ do both.”

“Like I said last night. Un-fucking-believable.” Nicole grins at the shiver that darts down Waverly’s spine at the thought, goosebumps erupting across her arms in its wake. “I don’t even want to see your dumb tattoo anymore.”

“It’s—I’ll show it to you tonight. It requires me to pull this thing up a bit and I don’t want to flash the gym, as much as everyone else would enjoy that.” She snaps the hemline of her bra for emphasis. “Dinner at your place?”

“Of course.” Waverly had originally been hesitant to admit how much she enjoyed Nicole’s company outside of training, but there’s something so intrinsically thrilling about knowing her on a more personal level—intimate, almost.

“Are you sure Wynonna doesn’t mind that this is like, my fifth time over this week?” Not that she’s entirely mindful what Wynonna thinks—she’d sneak into Waverly’s room if it means five minutes with her.

“Suddenly worried about impressing my older sister? Sounds like something you’d do if you had a crush on me.”

“It’s called being polite, douchebag, look it up.” Nicole gives Waverly a playful shove, which is returned with a bit more force until they’re both lying on the climbing mat, out of breath and laughing.

“Hey.” Waverly’s voice is softer than Nicole expects, which elicits a groan.

“You’re gonna ruin the moment. I can _feel_ it.”

Waverly frowns. “No, I just…I’m sorry your parents treat you like that. It’s bullshit.”

Nicole shrugs, but it lacks feeling. “They only do shit like that when they’re drunk. Which doesn’t excuse it, but it’s not so bad when they’re sober. And they don’t get drunk too often.”

“Still…”

“Look, Waves.” Nicole sits up and smiles down warmly at Waverly, who’s still lying on the mat with her hands behind her head, frowning, and honestly, Nicole thinks, it would be fucking adorable if it weren’t so heartbreaking. “It’s nothing I can’t handle. Besides, I just get to hang out with you more. I’m not going to live with them forever. Now how about we get back to me kicking your ass before I crush you in regionals?”

Waverly’s frown slowly fades to a shy smile as she lets Nicole help her to her feet.

* * *

“She has a _tattoo_ , Wynonna. I’m so screwed.” Waverly drops her head into her hands and rubs her eyes until stars explode behind her eyelids, a futile attempt to eradicate the one image ruining her at the moment. A cold shower has absolutely _not_ helped get the image of a topless tattooed Nicole out of her mind.

“I don’t see what the big issue is, dude. Just flash her your boobs like any normal person would and get it on.” Wynonna actually decides to cook for once (which means Waverly’s ordering a pizza after Wynonna sets off the fire alarms) in lieu of learning Nicole is once again returning for dinner (- _Gotta impress my baby sister’s girlfriend, right? -We aren’t dating, Wynonna!_ ) so she’s at the oven, spatula in hand.

“You’re really not helpful. She’s so pretty. It’s ruining my life.”

“Hey now, you’re pretty too.”

“I’m not jealous, Wynonna, I’m gay.”

Waverly realizes at that instant that it’s the first time she’s ever said it out loud. And damn, it feels _good_.

* * *

Waverly runs her fingers along the cool skin of Nicole’s rib cage, reveling in the slight abrasions she traces over. The tattoo is nothing special or intricate, three simple words in all lowercase with a font that looks like someone must’ve stamped on with a typewriter instead of drawn it by hand.

**make your peace**

No period following, maybe six inches long from beginning to end, and entirely plain, sprawled over the right side of her ribcage.

Waverly _adores_ it. “What does it mean?” Her voice is hushed and quiet, as if speaking too loud would scare the ink away.

Nicole shakes her head. Her fingers tremble ever so slightly as they hold the bottom of her sweater over her tattoo, revealing slightly more skin than necessary. She’s sprawled on her back on Waverly’s bed, the hand that isn’t occupied resting behind her head. Waverly sits above her, knees pressed into her shoulder and hip, eyes drawn irrevocably towards the skin Nicole reveals. “You’re going to think it’s stupid.”

“I won’t. Promise.” Waverly traces her hand over it again and delights in the way goosebumps erupt over Nicole’s abdomen.

Nicole sighs. “It took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that I was gay. When I was fifteen I realized that it wasn’t going to go away, no matter how much I tried to hide it. So I had to make my peace with it. Like, shit happens sometimes and we have to make our peace with it eventually. One way or another.” Her head shakes as she makes a face as if having bitten into something sour. “It’s dumb.”

“It’s not,” Waverly whispers. Her eyes are still glued to Nicole’s abdomen, cheeks growing pink. “I think that’s beautiful. I—I think _you’re_ beautiful.” She’s not quite sure what possess her to do it, but she leans down and kisses the tattoo, slowly, like it might break.

Nicole gasps.

It’s more out of surprise than pain, but a shiver arches up Waverly’s spine at the sound. She sits up so quickly her head spins for a moment and colorful dots flash in front of her eyes. “Sorry—I shouldn’t have—”

“No, hey.” She gives Waverly’s arm a gentle tug until she finally relents and lays down with her head against Nicole’s chest. Her fingers curl ever so gently into the fabric of Nicole’s sweater, and okay, maybe this isn’t _so_ bad.

But then the unthinkable happens.

They fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tattoo Nicole has is actually exactly the tattoo I have, except it's on my forearm instead of on my rib cage. If you go to my Tumblr, it's my header image, so if you guys want to see exactly what the tattoo looks like, go to please-say-nine.tumblr.com  
> The reason Nicole got the tattoo is the same reason I did, but I also got it because I am That Gay. If you guys want, I can also post a picture on this thing of what the tattoo looks like.  
> Please leave kudos/comments! It really means the world to me when you guys do.
> 
> send- when you finish your project


	6. Blizzards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicole goes MIA for a bit. Waverly comes to a realization she doesn't quite want to yet. Wynonna, yet again, drinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone in the fourth chapter said that they thought Nicole was a police officer because I used the term "local flatfoot rooky" to describe her, which is a fair assumption. the way I was intending it was close, but rooky can ALSO mean a teammate in sports other than just cops, so I thought that might be an important distinction to make. that's what I meant when I said rooky (and failed to address that until now because I'm the WORST).
> 
> onto the other things. smut is going to be in the next chapter, so be ready for that. it's not going to be the only smut, because I am to please and I know what you guys like to read, but i'm warning ya now, it's coming (pun intended).
> 
> Happy first day of pride month, guys!

_This is nice_ , Nicole thinks groggily as her eyes peel open. They search, unsuccessfully, to find a light source in the room, and when they find none, begin to close again. Waverly’s head is against her chest and her legs are entwined with Nicole’s, fingers twitching slightly in the fabric of Nicole’s sweater as she dreams. Despite the harsh winters of Purgatory and their being _on_ the bed instead of _in_ it, Nicole feels nothing but a smooth warmth throughout her whole body.

It’s dark and quiet, sometime in the early hours of the morning. A comforting weight settles across her shoulders as her body begins to sink back into sleep, when a sudden shift causes panic to flare in her chest and she bolts upright. Waverly grumbles in protest and readjusts.

_Oh, shit._

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she hisses, sliding off the bed in the least graceful way possible, hands skimming the floor in the darkness for her boots. “Oh, _shit_ , I am beyond screwed.” She yanks on her boots without bothering to fasten the buckles on and tries to do a quick mental check of everything she might’ve brought. Truck keys are on the table downstairs. Heavy overcoat in the closet by the kitchen. _Don’t forget anything, or you’ll be in deeper shit._

She stumbles around blindly, searching for the bedroom door when she hears it.

“Nicole?”

It’s soft and faint, hardly more than a whisper, but it has enough power to stop Nicole in her tracks, her stomach plummeting well below her knees.

“Go back to sleep, baby.” She tries to level her voice to be calming—no reason to drag Waverly into this mess that she’s no doubt going to have to drag herself out of.

“Hmm,” Waverly replies; she’s already snoring softly within seconds.

* * *

Waverly’s furious.

She hadn’t been at first, when Nicole had failed to show up to practice the following morning. Sometime last night in between falling asleep on Nicole’s chest and waking up to her alarm the next morning, Nicole had left. Which hadn’t bothered her, per se, but she would’ve been happy to wake up in the position she had originally started in.

But Nicole hadn’t woken her up when she left, presumably a few minutes after she let Waverly doze off against her, and her messages were barren the next morning. Perhaps it had been wishful thinking to assume she’d have at least _one_ heart emoji to wake up to, but nothing.

So maybe Nicole’s sleeping and Waverly’s trying her _damndest_ not to let some crush who apparently doesn’t like her back enough to even wake her up to say goodbye after she _fell asleep on her chest_ distract her from her climbing.

It’s not really working.

The climb is exactly Waverly’s style, too, a smattering of crimps interlaced between short, powerful moves. The starting move is a bitch (really, a sit-start undercling straight to a gaston? That’s just unreasonable), and she tells herself that the main reason she can’t stick it is due to her lack of butting heads with _someone_ to help keep her on her A-game.

The first hour of training passes and Waverly expects at least one text, maybe a phone call, or, the best case scenario, a flash of red hair coming through the gym doors, coffee and apologies in tow. And yet, nothing.

After the second hour passes, the first coil of dread begins to settle in her stomach. She tells herself it’s the frustration from being able to do all the moves individually without being able to connect. Even the damn start move is finally under control, after she slammed her head into a hold and had to take a fifteen minute break to stop the bleeding.

Because Nicole is at home sleeping, and she has nothing to worry about.

Right?

* * *

“Nicole Haught, you’d better have a _damn_ good reason for avoiding me at practice today without a single text—oh.” Waverly’s face falls as she swings the door open to reveal Wynonna, a bottle of jack in one hand and her truck keys in the other.

“I had to run out to get the essentials,” she says.

Waverly rolls her eyes. “I thought you were Nicole.”

Wynonna smiles and pushes her way into the house. “Nope! I’m much better. Close the door, it’s cold as shit out there. A storm’s coming.” She tosses her keys onto the table and spins to face Waverly. Her smile has turned much more maniacal, and Waverly can’t even blame it on the whiskey yet. “So. Haught’s truck was here for a while last night.”

Waverly’s frown goes sour almost instantly. “She was just showing me her tattoo and the time got away from us. She went home eventually.”

“ _Please_ tell me it’s a tramp stamp.”

“It’s not,” she snaps back. “It was actually really pretty. It’s on her ribcage and it said ‘make your peace.’ She said she got it when she realized she was gay. She had to make her peace with something she couldn’t change.”

Wynonna’s face curls against the whiskey. “How…poetic.” Her voice is genuine enough that Waverly knows she’s taken aback, and in some whiskey-soaked Wynonna way, in awe. Waverly turns to move away, and Wynonna’s voice comes again, quietly. “Waverly. I love you no matter who you love. Haughtstuff included.”

“I don’t love Nicole,” Waverly huffs, turning away.

“Whatever you say, kid.” Waverly doesn’t need to turn around to know Wynonna’s smiling.

* * *

Wynonna’s right about the storm—within the hour the ground is covered in a thin layer of snow, the sky an unrelenting gray that blankets all of Purgatory. Within the next half hour, it’s a full-on blizzard.

Which is why Wynonna jumps in surprise and sloshes whiskey down her front when there’s a sharp knock on the door. “Who in the _hell_ —Haughtstuff? What are you doing, driving around in this?” She glances down to see a duffel bag viced in Nicole’s hand, fingers white from the cold.

“Is Waverly here?” Her voice seeps between chattering teeth. When Wynonna doesn’t reply, seemingly still frozen in shock, she adds a, “Please let me in. I’m really fucking cold.”

It knocks Wynonna out of her reprieve and she unravels the blanket from her shoulders to drape it over Nicole’s own, ushering her inside and closing the door behind her. “No coat? What is this, your first day in Purgatory?”

“I was in a bit of a rush—”

“Nicole?” Waverly’s voice is soft and stops Nicole dead in her tracks, heart tearing in two. Nicole is still standing near the doorway and Waverly’s next to the corner of the kitchen, regarding Nicole. She can’t quite read her face, but it’s maybe something like confusion, relief, and anger all bundled into one expression.

“Waves, I’m so sorry I didn’t text, so much shit happened and I didn’t have time—oof.” Her breath leaves her chest in a _woosh_ as Waverly barrels forward and launches herself into Nicole.

It’s the best damn hug she’s ever had.

“You had me worried _sick,_  Nicole. I thought you hated me or you had crashed your car on your way home and you were lying dead in a ditch somewhere or you got in trouble with your parents.” Waverly can _hear_ Wynonna’s voice in her head; _Lot of talk for someone you don’t love, Waves_.

Nicole’s duffel bag hits the floor with a heavy, thick thud as she wraps her arms around Waverly and pulls her as close as physically possible. “Yeah,” she murmurs into Waverly’s hair. “I kinda did."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> crimp - like, really small holds where only your fingertips fit on, so they require a lot of strength to hold onto. super easy to dry fire off of because so little of your finger can hold onto the hold.  
> undercling - a hold you grab from below, aka your palms are facing you when you grab the hold, and you grab the hold from below instead of above.  
> Gaston - not the guy from beauty and the beast. a gaston is a hold you push away from. I'm not 100% sure how to explain it properly, but it doesn't really require finger strength. it's more like a hold you lean on. like, it you were to hold your arm out and lean against a wall, the wall sort of acts like a gaston hold. if that's not clear enough please let me know in the comments and I'll give you guys some further definitions. I promise it makes sense if you're actually climbing lmao.


	7. Mean Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicole's in a bit of a predicament regarding a housing situation. And then sex happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hooty HOO did this take some fucking motivation to write. not because I didn't want to, just because I had writer's block like NOTHING ELSE trying to write this god damn chapter. like I said, sex happens. if you guys want pretty consistent updates about this fic, head over to my Tumblr. I haven't started it yet, but in regard to my writing, this fic and others, I'm going to start making a "julia writes" tag.
> 
> also, if you're here just for the smut, that's perfectly reasonable (I know what you guys like), but at least leave me a kudos or something.
> 
> I am feeling slightly sub-par about this smut writing in general but I had to get it done so I hope you guys like it. no climbing terms in this chapter as far as I know. smut will probably get better over time. I just don't want this to turn into a completely smut-centric story, so there will definitely be more, but not a huge amount because that's not really what this is about.
> 
> also this chapter is like, twice as long as the other chapters.

Nicole’s boots clunk heavily against the wood floor of Waverly’s room as she paces. The blanket Wynonna wrapped around her is still draped over her shoulders. “There was a huge fight, Waves. I’ve never seen them that angry before. They were both yelling about how I was disrespectful for being late and not trying to change this whole “gay phase” and so I shouted, ‘You know what’s fucking disrespectful? Telling your child who you’re supposed to love unconditionally to change because you don’t like them for who they are! That’s fucking disrespectful!’” She takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of her nose tightly, fighting back tears. “I was just _so mad._ And then I just threw some shit into a bag and left. This was the only place I could think to come.”

She’s shaking violently when she sits next to Waverly, slumping against her in defeat. A silence hangs in the air between them. “How late were you?” Waverly tries to keep her voice soft, as if using anything other than a whisper might spook Nicole.

“You don’t remember?” The shake in her voice has dissipated ever so slightly at the change of topic.

“I was asleep,” she says, almost embarrassed. “And you were gone when my alarm woke me up. I figured you slipped out a few minutes after I dozed off.”

Nicole laughs and the sound of it warms Waverly’s heart beyond words. Her Nicole is coming back from the darkness, ever so slightly. “I passed out, too. I got home at 4 am. You don’t remember waking up at all? Or anything I said?”

Waverly crinkles her nose, as if trying to remember. “No. Why?”

“No reason.” Nicole’s shrug is anything but subtle.

* * *

 

“Of course she can stay. She practically fucking _lives_ here.” Wynonna pours herself a glass of whiskey over ice and takes a sip. Her gaze shifts to Nicole. “I was thinking about getting your name embroidered on a throw pillow soon enough.” They’ve gathered around the kitchen table, cradling cups of coffee that Nicole seems more invested in stealing the heat from than actually drinking.

“It’ll only be a few days,” Nicole assures her. “Just until things blow over with my parents and they no longer hate me for, you know, essentially screaming _fuck you_ in their faces. Which had been a long time coming, but I was hoping it would be on the day I moved out and never saw them again.” Her shrug is noncommittal. “But I’ll take what I can get.”

A shriek of wind outside makes her flinch; Waverly instinctively puts her hand on Nicole’s thigh under the table and squeezes reassuringly. It’s moments later that she realizes she still hasn’t moved her hand, and Nicole doesn’t seem to mind at all.

* * *

“What the hell are you doing?”

Nicole glances up from where she’s strategically begun tossing her clothes onto the floor in the form of a makeshift bed. Waverly stands in the doorway with her arms folded over what could _technically_ be considered sleepwear but looks suspiciously like some vanilla form of lingerie. “Oh, I couldn’t find any extra blankets anywhere to sleep on so I figured if I cocooned myself in my clothes it would keep me warm.”

“Oh my god. You’re fucking kidding me.” Waverly storms in and grabs Nicole by the arm, practically _tossing_ her onto the bed, and okay, _Shit, that was hot_. She turns and begins stuffing Nicole’s clothes back into her duffel. “ _First of all,_  how dare you think I wouldn’t give you some blankets if I was going to make you sleep on the floor. And _second of all_ , how dare you assume I wouldn’t let you sleep on the bed with me in the first place.” She zips Nicole’s bag shut and kicks it into a corner. “Like, fuck, Nicole, you fell asleep _in my bed_ after I _kissed your tattoo_ and you really think I wouldn’t let you sleep in the bed with me?”

Nicole’s taken back by the intensity Waverly reveals within the span of thirty seconds. “No, that’s not—”

“And no fucking text, either? Not a single fucking thing all morning? I thought you were hurt, Nicole. I thought something had happened to you.” She steps up to where Nicole is still sitting on the bed and crosses her arms again, and maybe Nicole could pay attention to what Waverly’s trying to say if she couldn’t see Waverly’s nipples poking through her shirt added to the fact that she’s still trying to recover from Waverly pushing her onto the bed.

“I’m sorry,” she offers, her voice quiet and low. “I didn’t mean to stress you out.”

“Yeah, well.” Waverly huffs and sits next to Nicole. Gray darkness seeps through the window, a clear indication of the ever-present storm still screaming beyond the Homestead. “I’m sorry too. For making you late and then yelling at you when I shouldn’t have. I just.” She blows a stray strand of hair out of the way of her face, and her voice becomes considerably delicate. “I meant it when I said I didn’t want you getting hurt.”

“Sounds like something you’d do if you had a crush on me,” Nicole replies, and Waverly’s jaw drops.

“What—hey! That’s my line, you douchebag!”

Nicole throws her head back and laughs. “We do seem to do a lot of repeating each other, don’t we?” Her begin to swing against the edge of the bed as she leans back on her wrists. “The only difference is—nevermind.”

“Well, now you _have_ to tell me,” Waverly says, and Nicole can’t help but think she’d do just about _anything_ Waverly told her to.

“You’ll make fun of me.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

Nicole frowns, but it’s short lived. “I was going to say…the only difference when we flirt, is that I actually want it to mean something.” The words tingle as they leave her lips and hang in the air like condensation, aching to fall if only she was brave enough to tousle the lid.

But instead, it’s Waverly who tousles it.

She lunges forwards and connects her mouth with Nicole’s, swinging her leg over her hip and straddling her, one hand wrapping around the back of Nicole’s neck to pull her closer and the other tangling in her hair. “You fucking _idiot_ ,” she gasps against the warmth of Nicole’s mouth. Nicole’s hands wrap around her ass to pull her in even closer, if at all physically possible. “Is this enough of a hint?”

“Stop talking, Earp.” In one swift motion, she’s spun and pinned Waverly underneath her on the bed, hands on either one of her shoulders and Waverly’s legs wrapped around her waist.

“Fucking make me.”

It takes Nicole back; she pulls away from Waverly and sits back on her heels, eyes curious. “Are you sure—are you sure this is what you want?” Her fingers trace the hemline of Waverly’s shirt (if shirt is generous enough of a term considering what Waverly’s wearing). It’s an asking motion, waiting approval before she surges forward.

In answer, Waverly flexes her legs and pulls, forcing Nicole’s hips to grind against her own. “Is _that_ enough of a hint? Jesus, it’s like trying to flirt with a brick wall—” The rest of her sentence gets swallowed against Nicole’s lips, lips doing damn _wonders_ against her own; it’s a heady sensation, kissing Nicole. It’s not enough and too much at the same time, and she needs it to be both soft and rough simultaneously, an unattainable paradox.

Nicole’s fingers trace amorphous patterns against the skin of Waverly’s ribs, drifting higher for seconds at a time but never staying. It’s almost _unfair_ how on edge Nicole makes her feel; so much so that a whine slips from her lips before she has time to stop it.

Nicole freezes. “Did I just hear Waverly Earp— _whine_?”

“Are you _seriously_ about to make fun of me?” She cants her hips up against Nicole’s and, for emphasis, whines _again_ , much breathier and sensual. Nicole’s eyes roll into the back of her head at the movement and grinds down.

“No—fuck—can I?” Seemingly lost to the thought of taunting Waverly and instead changing her train of thought entirely, her fingers trace the hemline of Waverly’s sleep shorts, abandoning her ribs entirely for a new prize. They dip just below the surface for a moment, waiting.

“Yes, fuck,” Waverly hisses. “I don’t know how many times I have to— _fuck_.” She loses her train of thought as Nicole’s fingers dip lower and lower until they’re _right fucking there_ and _holy shit don’t scream_.

One finger slides into her easily; it’s not enough and her breathy exaltation of _more_ has Nicole’s free hand tightening against her hips in arousal. Her eyes are already blown wide as she pulls back to watch Waverly. Its like heaven, her hand moving against Waverly, _inside_ Waverly, and watching the way she reacts. Her middle finger curls inside of her and Waverly’s whole back bows off the bed, mouth falling open in a silent scream.

Nicole’s well-versed in pleasing women; herself among others. It only takes moments before Waverly’s reduced to a shaking mess of sweaty limbs and lofty pants that Nicole finds all too erotic. “Fuck—Nicole—have you—you must have—can’t be your first time.” The last waves of her orgasm ripple through her and goosebumps raise against her arms.

“Not by a long shot, no.” She nestles a chaste kiss against Waverly’s neck. She wants more, she wants Waverly to mold her the way she has her, on her back and bowed towards the heaven, but limits exist and she can’t push them. Not yet. “Are you tired?”

“Am I…I just had the best sex of my life with a _girl_ , and not only a girl, but the _hottest girl I know_ , and you have the _gall_ to ask me if I’m tired?”

Nicole can’t refrain from the eye roll Waverly’s response produces. “A simple yes or no would’ve been just fine, dipshit— _ooh_.”

Waverly’s inexperienced, and wildly so, but it doesn’t stop her fingers from brushing gently against Nicole’s clit. She freezes. “Is this okay?”

Nicole’s knees drop to the bed and she collapses forward, elbows barely managing to prop her up. “Yes—move—move your finger. No, not _off_ , like, move it in circles around—yes.” The last word is more of a hiss than any actual form of utterance and Waverly picks up her pace, eliciting gasps and moans as Nicole’s eyes disappear into her skull.

Nicole can tell she has absolutely no idea what she’s doing, but watching Waverly come undone under her ministrations works her up like nothing else and at this point, she can probably come if Waverly so much as _looks_ at her a certain way. “Fuck—faster, Waves.”

The familiar warmth tingles as the base of her spine for a second as Waverly speeds up before tossing her into ecstasy and she ruts forward against Waverly, who seems just as blissed out as Nicole is. “Fuck,” she pants after the last of her orgasm has washed over her.

“That hurts your fingers,” Waverly says, and it catches Nicole by so much surprise that she starts laughing, unashamedly, head thrown back.

“Oh my god. That’s the first thing you’re going to say to the first girl you ever have sex with? Jesus, Earp, you’re quite the romantic.” She continues laughing until her stomach hurts and the gravity of the situation kicks in; She just had _sex_ with _Waverly Earp_.

Waverly flushes bright red. “I just—I didn’t realize how tired your fingers get.”

Nicole rolls over to the side and pulls Waverly against her, mimicking the same position held the night previous. “It does. And you always wondered why I was so much stronger at climbing? Finger strength to the max, baby.”

It doesn’t take a genius to know that Waverly’s making a face against Nicole’s chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls leave comments if ya liked it! I will take a few smut ideas of things you guys want to read, but no out of the woods kinky shit. that's not really going to be a focus in this fic. I've got some other smutty/kinky wayhaught fics if you guys want any of that. also I'm currently working on some but for right now this fic is my baby so in general its my first priority. hope you guys liked the chapter! love y'all.


	8. Intoxication of Two Forms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waverly wakes up to Nicole making breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm not sure how many of you read the original summary about me breaking my hand, but if you did, I didn't actually break my hand. It's just much easier to say that than to say what ACTUALLY happened, so if you really want to know, message me on Tumblr. Fair warning, it's pretty gross/brutal, so don't ask if you are faint of heart. So chapters might take a bit longer to type because my hand is virtually deadweight, plus it's my dominant hand.
> 
> Climbing will definitely be in the next chapter and definitely subsequent chapters as well; no climbing in this chapter though.
> 
> A special thanks to @poseidonsbastardson on Tumblr for telling me my story isn't shit after every chapter. ur the best sharky.
> 
> There is alcohol in this chapter so steer clear if you don't like that.

It’s early morning when her alarm goes off—five a.m. never feels so _early_ like it does right now, curled against Nicole and surrounded by warmth. She almost feels drunk, that pre-disaster tipsiness where everything is light and tingly and nothing can possibly go wrong; the invincibility of her own eventual undoing.

She thinks she finally understands what it means when people say that someone else is intoxicating. Not through their actions or their words, but the simple persistence of their presence.

Because Nicole _is_ intoxicating, always has been in some deep recess of her mind, and last night is the proof.

Waverly curls her fingers against the covers and buries her nose into Nicole’s chest, inhaling. She still smells like sex with a permanent underlying hint of chalk, and okay, that’s a bit of a heady scent too.

Her mind feels foggy as she listens to the rhythmic pulse Nicole’s heart emits against her ear and the steady rising and falling of her breath.

In a sudden sense of clarity before sleep consumes her again, she manages to piece together the words ‘love’ and ‘Nicole,’ and then she’s out.

* * *

The left side of the bed is cold when she wakes up again some time later, her arm flung wide in attempt to wrap herself around Nicole. When it finds nothing but empty blankets and strewn pillows, her eyes peel open to assess the situation.

She’s alone.

The only small revelation is that Nicole’s duffel is still stuffed into the same corner Waverly kicked it into the night previous. So she probably hasn’t left the _house_ , but it’s only common courtesy that Waverly has to go hunt her down now and make her breakfast. She’s still a _guest_ , after all.

Her toes curl when they hit the hardwood; the Homestead has heating, but only enough to make sure its residents don’t freeze—the floors, admittedly, are cold as shit, and her no-they’re-pajamas-I- _swear_ lingerie isn’t cutting it either.

An excellent opportunity presents itself.

She pads lightly over to Nicole’s duffel and pulls on the first shirt she can find—it’s soft and altogether too big for her and has the Purgatory Sheriff's Department logo sprawled across the front.

* * *

There’s a sizzling sound from downstairs and _Holy shit, Wynonna’s actually making breakfast?_ crosses through her mind before she freezes entirely. Nicole stands in the kitchen over the stove, spatula in hand. She glances back at the sound of Waverly and smiles. “Hey, I didn’t know when you were gonna be up so I thought I’d make you breakfast. Hope that’s okay.” She sounds sheepish and yet Waverly can’t quite seem to pick her jaw up off the floor. “I even made your coffee with that weird vegan creamer you like.” Her eyes up-down Waverly before her grin widens. “You’re wearing my shirt.”

“Oh, yeah.” Waverly picks at it as if she’s just now noticing it for the first time. “I was cold and it was the closest thing to me—I hope that’s okay.” It’s a lie and she _knows_ it; she _deliberately_ went out of her way to make sure it was Nicole’s.

“Of course it’s okay. Besides.” Her grin is infectious as she glances over her shoulder at Waverly. “You look better in it.”

“Why do you have a sheriff’s department shirt, anyway?”

Nicole turns away to face the stove and flips the eggs again. “Oh. That. I’ve been meaning to tell you—”

“Good morning, I haven’t seen the sun in three days, we’re out of whiskey again, and Waverly _why are you wearing a narc shirt_?” Usually it’s the lack whiskey that throws Wynonna off in the morning, but her hatred of the laws wins out over alcohol anytime. “You know me and the law have—a sketchy past.” She glances sideways at Nicole for a moment before turning back, eyes glowering. “Don’t tell me you’ve joined the dark side.”

“I—What? No! It’s—”

“Breakfast time!” Nicole interrupts. She settles herself in and winks at Waverly, who crinkles her nose and smiles back. If Wynonna notices, she doesn’t say anything (rather unlike Wynonna, regardless, to keep her mouth shut). The concept of food seems to tangent her plane of thought, because she drops the shirt entirely.

“So. Surprised to see you here for breakfast instead of the gym.”

“In this weather? You’ve got to be shitting me.” It’s Nicole who speaks and Waverly immediately expects an argument, but to her surprise, Wynonna cocks her head and nods, then turns to face Waverly.

“Way to go, Waves.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Sure you did.” Wynonna wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “You finally picked the smart one.”

* * *

“Any other secret tattoos you want to tell me about?” Waverly takes a sip from the bubblegum sake (oh god—it’s fucking awful) and curls her mouth against the taste before passing it off to Nicole.

“Any other secret stashes of alcohol _you_ want to tell _me_ about?” Nicole’s tongue reaches out to swirl along the lip of the bottle before diving in and taking a sip—Waverly’s jaw drops just a little at the sight. Nicole makes a face and then takes another, much deeper gulp.

“Slow down there,” Waverly laughs and takes it back. “Wynonna hates this shit—she wouldn’t drink it if her life depended on it.” She leans back against Nicole’s chest, who’s currently propped up against Waverly’s bed frame, legs stretched out in front of her.

Nicole sighs. “No other tattoos yet. A few ideas here and there, but nothing too serious.” The lilt in her words reveals that the alcohol is starting to get to her—it’s not incredibly noticeable, but it’s there. Waverly can feel it too, the pink flush beginning to creep over her cheeks and a numbing warmth spreading across her chest.

The storm outside had begun to die out hours ago, the unrelenting gray slowly morphing into the speckled night sky once again. Snow blankets the ground in a beautiful white haze that, Waverly hates to admit, will be soiled tomorrow when they get up to practice. It’s not completely undrivable anymore, which means she and Nicole are going to be up at five a.m. the next morning, complaining about the fact that Nicole’s truck doesn’t have any heat.

“So.” Nicole’s voice is soft when it comes again. “We should talk about last night.” She wraps her arm around Waverly’s shoulder and pulls her in close. Waverly hums in approval and lets her eyes fall closed as her hands bunch into Nicole’s shirt. She doesn’t remember ever having felt this _tired_ before, and Nicole is so _warm_.

She can faintly hear Nicole saying something, can feel the vibrations of her chest against her ear, but she can’t make herself listen. The alcohol swimming in her mind makes her feel foggy and muffled, something akin to stuffing cotton in her ears. She wants to hear what Nicole is saying, she does, but the alcohol wins and pulls her deeper, deeper, until she’s entirely relaxed against Nicole’s chest, snoring softly.

Despite Waverly not listening when what she had to say was _rather_ important, Nicole thinks, she doesn’t mind at all, and lets the alcohol put her to sleep too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave comments/kudos if you like it so far! love u all.


	9. Cold Olympics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wynonna learns something about Nicole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is a mention of smut in this chapter, but again I really don't want that to be what this story is about, so it's not really emphasized at all. my hand is almost completely healed, so things should be coming in faster, more or less. I have some prompts in my inbox on tumblr that I want to work on, so we'll see how that all plays out.

“It’s fucking _cold_ ,” Waverly grumbles. Her hands are tucked into her armpits and her feet under her legs, but the tip of her nose is red and Nicole has to resist the urge to lean over and kiss it. “Dumb truck.”

“Don’t insult her,” Nicole warns and pats the steering wheel appreciatively. “She’ll get mad and break down and that is the _last_ thing we need. Calamity Jane is good to me on every other day.”

“You named your truck Calamity Jane?”

Nicole’s shrug is nonchalant. “Also, stop complaining. You’re all tucked up over there with your hands in your armpits and I can’t even feel my fingers anymore.”

Waverly harrumphs. “This isn’t the cold Olympics.”

“Are you going to be this much fun all day?” Nicole palms the steering wheel into the gym parking lot then throws the truck into reverse. Waverly holds her breath as Nicole’s hand reaches behind her and turns to look where she’s going, chiseling her jawline into a fine point. Her hand flexes against the steering wheel, fingers splayed, fingers Waverly can still _feel_ and—

“You’re staring at me.”

Waverly opens her mouth to argue then decides against it. Her voice lowers enough to sound sympathetic. “Do you…do you really think this whole thing with your parents will blow over?”

The engine to the truck goes quiet as Nicole pulls her keys out of the ignition and sits back. “I mean…yeah. We’ve gotten into fights before. Never that brutal, but we usually come to terms in some way or another without murdering each other, so. I’m not going to live with them forever.”

“I’m sorry.”

Nicole shrugs, and the shift in her voice denotes a change of topic. “You know, Waves. We haven’t, um, we haven’t kissed since that night. And we haven’t talked about it, either.”

“What’s there to talk about? We had mind-blowing sex. Sums it up pretty well to me.” Waverly grins cheekily. She’s pushing Nicole’s buttons and Nicole _knows_ it. It would be frustrating if it wasn’t so damn adorable.

Nicole frowns. “You know what I mean, Earp.”

“How about we get out of this cold-as-balls car and talk about it later? I still have your ass to kick in training today and yesterday set us off schedule.”

“Well, hey now. You know for a _fact_ it’s the other way around in terms of who kicks whose ass.” She unbuckles and leans down close to Waverly. Her hand slides up to rest her finger underneath Waverly’s chin and tilts up ever so slightly until they’ve met eyes. Waverly shivers, tries to tell herself it’s because Nicole’s hand is cold on her chin, knows it’s a lie.

The kiss is hard, wanting, with an undercurrent if something else Waverly can’t read, couldn’t even start if she tried. And she’s an _excellent_ judge of character.

It’s moments later when they break away, breathing hard. Waverly’s lips chase Nicole’s when she leans back, and then frowns when they don’t return. “And don’t you forget it, Earp,” she whispers.

* * *

Perhaps a day off has made Waverly soft, or she forgot how hard Nicole trains. Today is nothing like how it used to be, she realizes. Today is absolute balls-to-the-wall shit she didn’t even realize Nicole was _capable_ of, much less herself.

Her bullshit starting move project takes one try from Nicole, infuriatingly enough, despite the fact that Waverly _still_ can’t quite link all the moves together, and that’s not even the half of her problems.

“So,” Nicole pants, dipping into another pushup. “What was that about kicking my ass again?”

Waverly grunts. “Can it, Haught. I’m two pushups away from going all Wynonna on your ass.”

“Oh, I’d like to see you _try_.” Her knee props underneath her and she pushes herself out of her plank to settle lazily back on her heels. “There. Fifty. Piece of cake.”

Instead of following suit, Waverly allows herself to roll over into her back. “You’re going to make fun of me but I _swear_ this is the hardest I’ve ever trained with you. Where was all this fury before we fucked, huh? You’re going to put me in a coma.”

“That’s how you know you’re going hard enough,” Nicole replies, electing to ignore the previous comment. Her hand traces up the skin on Waverly’s leg, delighted by the way a trail of goosebumps follow in its wake. “Besides. We can always train in different ways, too.”

“And what would you suggest those way are?” She notes the suppressed shiver in Waverly’s voice.

“Don’t be coy. Come back to the Homestead and I’ll show you.” Her hands slowly reach the apex of Waverly’s thighs and press the tiniest amount of pressure against her pelvis before backing off completely.

Waverly quirks her eyebrows.

* * *

“Hey, Haughtstuff. You and I are going to have a chat,” Wynonna says when Waverly’s dipped out to shower. “Because something isn’t adding up, and I’m fucking _terrible_ at math.”

Nicole’s eyebrows raise. “What?”

Wynonna stares down Nicole for a minute and crosses her arms over her chest, waiting until she hears the sound of the shower upstairs. “I checked the roster for regionals. Wanted to see who Waverly was up against, when her placement was, all that shit. Weirdly enough, when scanning the list, you know who I didn’t find?” Nicole pales as Wynonna’s finger lurches forward and prods her in the chest. “You. I checked that list three or four times and not once did I find you on there. So you have some explaining to do.”

Nicole heaves a sigh and starts talking. Wynonna’s frown fades from concern to a small smile after a moment when she hears the explanation, but she keeps her arms folded across her chest. “Just…please don’t tell Waverly.” She hangs her head in defeat.

Wynonna’s eyes bore holes into her for a moment. “You’re not so bad, you know.”

“So you’re not pissed off with me?”

“I won’t be, unless I hear that you break Waverly’s heart. Then we’re gonna have some issues. But honestly.” She takes a moment to take a sip of coffee that Nicole’s fairly positive is whiskey with a splash of espresso then continues. “This whole thing? It’s kinda genius. Now go take a shower, you smell like the gym.”

“After Waverly’s done!” she shouts as Nicole grins and saunters away.

* * *

“What were you and Wynonna talking about?” Waverly towel dries her hair in between her hand and shoots Nicole a smile that makes her heart stop completely in her chest.

“Hurt her and you die shit. You know. Big sister Wynonna stuff.” Nicole hopes her shrug passes as nonchalant enough that Waverly will condone it enough to change the topic. She crosses her legs and leans back on her wrists on Waverly’s bed.

Waverly nods astutely. “Yes. Stuff she’d say if you had a crush on me.”

“I—Waverly Earp, we’ve _slept together_. I have a fucking crush on you. You knew that already. I’ve admitted it three times! What the hell!” It’s not a yell or anything even close to angry, and Waverly grins as she straddles Nicole’s lap and leans down to press a long, slow kiss into her jawline. Nicole melts against her.

“I remember,” she husks, and pushes Nicole back until she’s flat on the bed, fingers drawing patterns against Waverly’s arms, and moments later, drawing moans out of her instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am aware you guys don't know what Nicole tells Wynonna, but all will be revealed eventually (of course). I really hope you guys like it so far! leave kudos and/or comments if you feel so inclined!
> 
> this is off topic but can anyone reccomend me a really good wayhaught HSAU? it doesn't have to be complete or anything, but god damn do I love HSAUs.


	10. Long Overdue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicole tells Waverly something that threatens to ruin their relationship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note, ONE WEEK HAS NOW PASSED. Nicole is still living with Waves and Wynonna. 
> 
> Angst ahead. This chapter physically hurt my heart to write, you can ask my girlfriend. I was messaging her the whole time like "JANE THIS HURTS TO WRITE" so that should give you some sort of indication of how much I love WayHaught. All will be healed in the end, but the babes gotta get into a bit of a tussle. Moving on. Someone a few chapters ago asked I put climbing terms in the beginning of the notes instead of the end SO
> 
> pyramid- a form of endurance training where you do 8 easy climbs, rest four minutes, 6 less easy climbs, rest 4 minutes, 4 even less easy climbs, rest, 2, rest, 1 hardest climb, rest, and then go down again, so 1, 2, 4, 6, 8. It's really exhausting and can usually take a few hours to complete.
> 
> pump- blood rush to your muscles to make it harder to climb. climbing through your pump teaches your muscles how to climb even when they're tired and strengthens them
> 
> I hope that helps! The next two chapters should probably come in rapid succession because I know EXACTLY what is going to happen in them.

ONE WEEK LATER

“I’m not sure what it is, but I _swear_ we’re training harder than we have been. You must really be intent on kicking ass at regionals,” Waverly pants. Pyramids have always been her downfall, but today is especially brutal in attempt to try to keep up with Nicole, who infuriatingly climbs harder than she does with seemingly less effort. She’s sprawled out on the mat, chest heaving and sweat dripping down her (unfortunately rather noticeable) cleavage.

“You could say that,” Nicole says as she kicks off her shoes and sets her timer for four minutes—it’s a short allotted time frame in between stacks, but it’s enough to keep her pump and still feel rested simultaneously. “You should really get up, that floor is disgusting.”

“I’m serious, though. Regionals is the day after tomorrow.” Waverly sits up and leans her head against Nicole’s knee, whose opted to sit on the bench instead of lying next to Waverly. “And it’s been like, this crazy-ass regiment for a week now that we didn’t have before. I went into this whole thing determined to beat you at regionals because you’re my sworn climbing nemesis, but damn. Not sure anyone is going to be able to at this rate.”

Guilt lurches in Nicole’s chest. “That’s very sweet, Waves.” It’s the closest thing she can muster to telling the truth.

* * *

“I know you don’t want to think about it, but the longer you wait to tell her about your whole… _situation_ , the angrier she’ll be when you do,” Wynonna says. She’s got her feet kicked up on the table and her hair pulled back into a messy bun, and Nicole can’t help but notice how strikingly similar she and Waverly look, all dark hair and lean angles colluded.

Waverly’s still upstairs sleeping; it’s a rest day from the gym, as it’s always a rest day right before a comp, but Nicole’s nerves are still on fire.

“I know. I know.” Nicole buries her head into her hands. “She keeps swearing I’m pushing her harder at practice because I want to win at regionals, which, hello, is fucking _tomorrow_ , and it’s making me want to tell her less and less. No time feels like the right time, and I just feel like this is the whole reason she even likes me, you know? I’m here because of climbing and we started hanging out because of climbing and the only reason I felt safe enough to come here was because we became friends through climbing, and I feel like if we don’t have that, then she won’t have a reason to like me anymore.” The words are jumbled and tripping as they fall out, landing in a heap on the table in front of her.

Wynonna snorts into her coffee. “I can hear you two having sex through the walls at night. I’m pretty sure she likes you outside of climbing.”

Nicole’s face goes red instantly. “Oh, I—that’s not—”

“Please.” Wynonna stands and puts her coffee cup into the sink before making her way over to the couch. “You should talk to her.” She shoots Nicole a knowing look. “About more than just regionals.”

At the face Nicole makes, Wynonna sighs. “Jesus, it’s like I have to spoon-feed you. You two clearly have more than just the hots for each other. Waverly’s a planner. She likes having a schedule with finite details.”

Nicole knows. It’s one of the things she loves about her.

“She likes knowing things, and I think it would help you both if you _knew_ what exactly is going on between the two of you. Fucking talk to her about that before I do it for you.”

Nicole holds up her hands in surrender.

* * *

“Waves? We really have to talk.” Nicole fidgets with her sweater nervously. She can hear Waverly call something from inside the closet, but its buffered by mounds of clothes and virtually inaudible. “What was that?”

Chocolate hair whips around the doorframe as Waverly’s head appears. “I said, long overdue. We’ve slept together like eight times now _and_ you admitted to having a crush on me. I think that says something.” Something hides behind her words, a sort of frustration Nicole can’t quite pinpoint. Wynonna’s words come back to her. _Waverly’s a planner._

Nicole rolls her eyes. “You have a crush on me too, jackass.” Waverly winks and disappears back into the closet to reemerge seconds later in a sweater and sweatpants that she looks _entirely_ too good in for what should be considered legal. She hops down next to Nicole and puts her head on her shoulder. _Okay_. Her chest heaves. _Here goes nothing._ “Waves. I’m not completing in regionals.”

Waverly freezes and lifts her head off of her shoulder to face Nicole. “What?”

_Dive in head first, Haught._ “I’m not competing in regionals. I never even signed up.”

Waverly’s next words are slow, calculated. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I—do you remember the first night I slept over and you came downstairs in that police shirt and you asked me why I had one?” She knows Waverly remembers—she hadn’t taken that shirt off all day, despite Nicole’s overdone complaints that it’s _her_ shirt. “I got recruited to become a cop at the sheriff’s department and training—training to climb is _good_ for me, but I know what I want.”

Waverly is quiet as she processes what Nicole’s saying. “So this whole time we’ve been training has been to become a cop while _I_ thought it was because we were competing together in regionals.”

Of all the different ways Nicole has practiced this conversation in her head, the words seems to fall flat against her tongue before they make it past her lips. “No, Waves, it’s not like that. I trained hard to train _you_ hard so you could kick ass in regionals. That’s why we’ve been going so hard, to get you as strong as possible—”

“You know what that’s called, Nicole? That’s called fucking _lying_ ,” she interrupts. There’s a catch in Waverly’s throat and Nicole feels acid rise in the back of her throat, burning her into silence. “How long have you known you weren’t competing.”

She doesn’t phrase it like a question, but rather an order than requires an answer. “A few weeks,” Nicole whispers.

“A few _weeks_? You’ve been lying to me for _weeks?_ Shit, Nicole, are you fucking kidding me?” Waverly springs off the bed and begins to pace.

“I just—everything was going so well and I kept _meaning_ to bring it up but it never felt like the right time and then suddenly two weeks had passed. Everything we did was because of climbing. Me coming here and us kissing and hanging out and all of it related back to climbing and I was worried that if we didn’t have that…” Her voice drops. “I really like you, Waverly. More than anything. And I was worried if we didn’t have climbing, we wouldn’t have anything else, either.”

Evidently, _that’s_ the bottom line that throws Waverly over the edge.

“Nicole _fucking Haught!_ I lost my fucking virginity to you! I came out to my sister because of you! And you’re going to fucking sit there and tell me that there’s no connection except climbing between us? Are you _shitting_ me?” Her pacing stops.

“It’s not like I haven’t _tried_ talking to you about—” Her hands gesture wildly between the two of them. “—this! But you won’t fucking talk about it with me! I care about you—”

“Yeah, evidently enough to lie to me about your intentions for weeks.” Waverly’s voice is thin, cold, and stops Nicole in her tracks. She’d almost rather Waverly yells; this, somehow, is much more terrifying.

“I thought you’d be happy for me,” Nicole whispers. Tears begin to prick in the back of her eyes. “My parents have pushed me around my whole life. I want to be a cop so no one can push me around like that anymore. I thought you’d be happy for me.”

If it softens Waverly at all, she doesn’t show it. “You lied to me about your intentions for weeks.” She shakes her head and pinches the bridge of her nose. “I go into iso at 7 a.m. tomorrow. I don’t have time for this.” Her hand connects with the door handle and she spins. “And for the fucking record, I’m mad at you for lying, but I’m still fucking happy for you about the cop thing.” Her eyes flash. “And fuck you for thinking that I wasn’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about making the babes fight, but again, I promise it all gets resolved. I love all of u.


	11. Entanglements and Scrimmages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicole has some unexpected company after the argument.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something that's important to note about climbing competitions is that you're not allowed to look at the climb until it's your time frame to climb, otherwise its considered cheating. Further, you aren't allowed to talk to anyone else while you're competing because they could give you hints about the climb and that's also considered cheating, so that's why Waverly don't ask Wynonna if Nicole is there or tun around or anything, you'll literally get kicked out if you do. Climbers are wild. Anyway. 
> 
> I forgot to put it in the later chapter but "Iso" is short for "Isolation" which is this thing climbers go into to warm up for before they climb where they're with other climbers who haven't seen the climbs yet. Once you leave iso you aren't allowed to come back or talk to anyone in it because it's considered cheating. 
> 
> My best guess is that the last chapter will be posted tomorrow.

It’s 3 a.m. by the time Nicole begrudgingly makes it downstairs; ideally Waverly has cooled down enough to actually talk instead of whatever pseudo-yelling entanglement occured upstairs hours previous.

Something lurches in her stomach every time her foot connects with a new stair, stirring some hardwired nerves she’s tried to wash out. Unsuccessfully. Tears still burn her eyes and coat streaks of her cheeks red—maybe Waverly won’t notice.

To her surprise, Wynonna sits at the dinner table with a bottle of jack white-knuckled between her fingers and a grim look on her face that Nicole knows isn’t from the taste of alcohol. “Wynonna?” She offers.

Wynonna flinches. “Jesus, Nicole, you scared me.” Their gazes level for a moment before she flicks her chin towards the table. “Well sit down.”

“You called me Nicole,” she says as she takes a seat across from Wynonna. “I don’t think you’ve ever called me by my actual name before.”

“Serious times call for serious shit.”

“I imagine you heard the argument upstairs, then?”

Wynonna sighs and takes a long gulp before rubbing her forehead with her hand. “Even better, I got the brute end of that argument. She came downstairs crying and I’m a dumbass, so I asked her what was wrong instead of telling her I already _knew_ and then of course that started this whole thing about how I lied to her too and that we’re both absolute fucks, in Waverly-fashioned swearing of course, and then it was all I had to keep her from leaving in nothing but a thin little sweater and a pair of sweatpants. So she’s pretty pissed at me too, kid.” She offers the bottle to Nicole, who, against her better judgement, takes it.

The alcohol doesn’t burn as much as lying to Waverly does.

“She left?”

“Almost did. We got into a…physical scrimmage.” At Nicole’s alarmed look, Wynonna reclaims the whiskey and shakes her head. “Relax. She’s asleep in my room. I took it upon myself to set out her climbing bag for tomorrow.” She motions vaguely to somewhere behind her where the dim shadow of a black duffel bag is propped into the corner. “Less stress for her especially since iso is at fucking 7 in the morning.” She eyes Nicole wearily. “You’re still coming to regionals, right?”

“I was going to, but what if Waverly hates me now?” Nicole drops her head into her hands. “What if she doesn’t even want me at regionals? This whole thing blew up in my face. That was never my intention. God, I’m a fucking idiot.” She takes the bottle back from Wynonna.

“You know,” Wynonna says after a moment of consideration, and there’s the slightest slur to her voice. So she’s not completely invincible to alcohol at all. “When she came downstairs, she said that she was upset because you didn’t know she was proud of you. Because you thought she didn’t like that you were gonna be a cop. Among other things, but that was a main one.”

“Not like she was great at _showing_ it. She yelled at me for the better half of fifteen minutes and then stormed off.”

“Hey.” Wynonna’s voice goes stern for a moment before fading back. “My _point_ is that she’s _proud_ of you, even if she’s absolute garbage at showing it. You lied to her and she doesn’t know how to feel about that, but I know her. She isn’t incapable of forgiveness. Especially when it comes to you.” She smiles for a moment. “Waves is the smartest dumbass I know, and I know for a damn fact that she wants you to still be there cheering her on.”

Nicole’s silent as she tries to process what Wynonna is saying. Her eyes slide over the where the duffel bag sits in the corner and then back to Wynonna; she swears she can see Wynonna nod.

* * *

The alarm feels more like a shriek when it goes off at five. Waverly’s limbs feel sluggish as if someone removed her bones and replaced them with wet concrete. Her eyes still burn from crying the night previous, and Nicole—Nicole.

Her heart burns at the thought of yelling, at any sort of altercation with her, especially one of such an intense fashion. She pushes herself from the bed and drags herself into the bathroom, dousing her face in cold water until the redness under her eyes fades to a pinkish tint she accredits to lack of sleep.

Her feet slap silently against the cool hardwood of the floor as she pads downstairs to grab a banana and her climbing gear, which has mysteriously already been set out near the kitchen table. As she passes the couch on her way out to leave, she catches a tangle of red hair mussed up against the couch.

Nicole’s wrapped up under a thin blanket and still shivering, fingers tucked into her sweater in a feeble attempt to accumulate what little warmth the Homestead can offer.

Waverly’s still mad, sure, but she’s not _heartless_. She presses another blanket against her wiry frame and a kiss to her forehead, so light she’s not even sure it actually happens, and then she’s gone.

* * *

Sometime in between passing out on the couch around four with whiskey clouding her mind and now, presumably still morning but _much_ later, Nicole’s acquired another blanket.

Her heads swims as her hand searches for her phone, and _damn_ it burns when the light turns on. 10:48. Something itches at the back of Nicole’s mind, a vague memory of talking to Wynonna a few days ago in the comfort of silence as Waverly slept upstairs.

_Run time, 11:00_.

Fuck. No. _No_.

Waverly climbs in twelve minutes, and Nicole is still at the Homestead in sweatpants and _hungover._

“Shit,” she hisses, tripping off the couch and scrambling to pull her boots on. Maybe high-buckle faux-leather boots and sweatpants aren’t the ideal look for cheering Waverly on, but she can’t make herself give half a shit as she stumbles to grab her keys and barrels out the door.

Wynonna’s truck is gone when she finally makes it outside; she must’ve left when Waverly did.

The reflecting off the snow momentarily blinds her as she pulls herself into her car and _has the sun always been this fucking bright?_

A quick glance at her phone has her slamming her foot on gas. 10:52.

Eight minutes left.

* * *

Eight minutes. Waverly takes a deep breath and bounces her legs nervously. A warm hand presses against her shoulder but she knows better than to swivel to see who it is—any attempt to turn around results in immediate expulsion from the competition.

Her eyes flick down to the side and her heart falls as they take in the chipped black nail polish—Wynonna.

Wynonna, who sleeps in too late and drinks too much, and as excited as she is to see her, she can’t help the slump of her shoulder.

As much as she loves Wynonna, she isn’t Nicole.

At 10:58 her hands dip into her chalk bag.

And brush across a note.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you guys liked it!


	12. Girlfriend? Girlfriend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waverly competes in regionals. Things don't quite go as planned for her or Nicole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta- info on how to do the climb. If someone gives you beta, they tell you how to do the climb, how to hold certain holds, etc.
> 
> Finger Pocket- a small hold that only a few fingers can fit into, but usually you can hold onto them pretty easily.
> 
> The final installment! There's going to be a lot more to say in the last notes, so if you're a fan of my writing/AUs, definitely read the last note!

The roads are eerily empty as Nicole’s heart hammers from her chest to her foot, still pressed down on the gas. She can’t help but imagine how beautifully ironic it would be if she were to get pulled over at the moment. _I backed out of regionals because I wanted to be a cop, and that would be the exact reason I couldn’t go see my girlfriend in it._

And there it is. Girlfriend. She hasn’t exactly been _dreading_ the words, but every time she brought the mere notion up to Waverly, it was whisked away and hidden under kisses and moans Nicole was entirely too enamoured by to say anything about.

10:54. Nicole feels a jump underneath her foot, and then a pop as the gas releases, and then the car shudders to a stop as steam plumes from the hood. “Piece of shit car,” she hisses as the the key turns fruitlessly in the ignition. “Fuck. Fuck!” Her hand collides with the steering wheel and then buries itself in her hair, pulling haphazardly until tears prick at the back of her eyes, either from the pain of her hair or the pain of something else.

At 10:56, she tucks her keys into her pocket and starts to run.

* * *

When the buzzer for 11:00 goes off, it becomes strikingly clear to Waverly. Nicole isn’t coming. It was stupid to think that she would.

The note goes forgotten in her chalk bag as she pushes it down and buries it, much like she attempts to do with her own emotions. Falling in love with Nicole was dumb, and thinking it would have a happy ending was even more of a fairytale than anyone else could have composed about her.

It still doesn’t stop her from taking a moment to turn around now that she’s allowed to and scan the crowd of smiling faces, aching for a glimpse of red hair. Instead there’s Wynonna, whose smiling sadly and shaking her head. _I’ve looked, babygirl. She’s not here._

* * *

The climb is exactly Waverly’s style—a smattering of crimps interlaced between small, powerful moves. It plays perfectly to her height disadvantage, a rare gambit in any climbing competition she’s ever been a part of. Her fingers close around the starting hold, allowing it to ground to back to reality, until her heart calms down enough.

The first few moves are simple enough, no odd beta that leaves her more tired than she should be. _Breathe, Waverly_. After the third clip she can start to feel exhaustion wear down on her limbs from the strain.

Relief comes at the fourth clip in the form of a finger pocket, while positioned at a weird angle that she has to center herself oddly to rest on, provides enough of a rest that she can let go with one hand and shake out. Her head swivels over to check out the clock, a bright blue sign with ticking seconds, when a flash of red from the window outside appears.

She switches hands and holds her breath, fingers once again scraping against the note at the bottom of her chalk bag, only this time it weighs a hundred pounds more as Nicole— _Nicole_ , flings the doors open and scans the room, eyes wide.

Her face is red from the cold and her chest is heaving, and she seems to move with a fluid sort of grace, as though her limbs have been replaced with jelly. _Did she run here?_

Nicole’s eyes travel up the wall until they meet Waverly and she waves frantically until Waverly nods and smiles. _She came_. Nicole makes her way over to where Wynonna is standing, who pulls her into a side-hug without tearing her gaze from Waverly.

Waverly refocuses on the climb at hand and shakes out one more time before moving off the hold. The next one is a bitch to catch, but she feels oddly reinvigorated. Two more clips and she’s topping out, she tells herself, and she moves to catch the next hold when her foot cuts.

She feels herself drop a few inches before the instincts in her left hand catch and tighten, holding her in place. A shriek pours from her mouth as her body swings out but manages to hang on, and it’s the fatal flaw. Wherever she goes from here, it’s drained the rest of the energy in her left arm.

She rebalances her foot and _trusts_ it, springing off the catch the next hold. Her hand sticks, slips, and then she’s plummeting until the rope goes taut and catches her. The audience is still halfway in between a gasp and a cheer when she lowers.

Despite not finishing the climb, she’s smiling ear to ear.

* * *

Nicole feels her breath catch in her throat at the foot cut, and then feels it sink all the way down into her feet when Waverly falls. She’s lowered to the ground and Nicole can’t help herself from jumping forward over the rope barrier. She pulls Waverly into a bone-crushing hug before she’s even able to untie herself. “Waves, I am so so sorry times a million, I never meant to hurt you like that, I just knew how important regionals was to you and I wanted you to win because I knew you wanted to, and if you never forgive me I completely understand, I am so sorry—”

“Hey,” Waverly laughs and pulls herself out of Nicole’s grip. She keeps her hands firmly on Nicole’s shoulder. “Why don’t we go get some coffee? You were up late last night.”

Nicole frowns. “But the competition. You didn’t win and it’s my fault—”

“Trust me.” Waverly’s grinning ear to ear as she rests her forehead against Nicole’s and allows herself to get pulled back into a hug. “I won.”

* * *

“So, Calamity Jane?”

“Absolute garbage. You were right,” Nicole laughs. Her hands cradle her coffee cup, stealing the warmth instead of actually drinking it. She has a specific memory of sitting in that exact spot weeks ago when Wynonna first came to get her, and the thought of it sends a warm tingle down her spine. Her face suddenly goes red. “I left a note in your chalk bag, you know. Did you ever get around to reading it?”

“Oh! No, I completely forgot about it, I’ll do that now.” Waverly spins to shuffle around in her climbing bag before a hand on her forearm stops her.

“I can just tell you what it said,” Nicole says, and Waverly turns to see Nicole’s face only inches from hers. She closes her eyes and sinks into the kiss, wrapping her arms around Nicole’s shoulders.

“That was a wonderful note,” she whispers. “I’m sorry, too, for losing my shit on you. You were trying to help, and you did try to tell me, and you tried to talk to me, and honestly, it scared me. You scare me.”

Nicole blanks. “I scare you?”

“Yes. Because I don’t want to be friends. I don’t want to be just _more_ than friends. But it scared me to take that step and it especially scared me because I didn’t want to compete against my _girlfriend_ when it was dumb. You’re more important to me than some competition you would’ve kicked my ass in anyway.”

“Girlfriend?” Nicole repeats slowly.

“Girlfriend,” Waverly agrees.

* * *

3 MONTHS LATER

A small note, covered in chalk despite being a few months old, that reads, _I’m sorry_ with a heart next to it sits on Waverly’s empty dresser, next to a slightly more faded one that says _Dyke_. Beautifully ironic, she thinks, how they were both written in hatred yet brought her closer to Nicole. Her girlfriend. Her _girlfriend_.

“Hey, babygirl.” Wynonna readjusts the box that sits against her hip. “You coming or what? College won’t wait for you.”

“Yeah, I’ll be down in a second.” She knows Nicole is waiting in the driver’s seat of the truck downstairs where the rest of her things sit, ready to move into a dorm. She takes one last look around the room before carefully folding the notes into her pocket and wishing the Homestead goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOO! It's done! Wow! Couldn't be happier or thank you guys more for tagging along throughout this fic. I am absolutely enamoured by young WayHaught, so if you guys would want me to do a HSAU fic, please let me know in the comments! I don't think it would involve climbing, but I really am such a slut for WayHaught HSAUs. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it, because honestly, I had a blast. I probably won't do a follow up on it, but if you're really curious as the what happens behind this chapter, shoot me a message on my Tumblr and we can talk about it. 
> 
> I love all of you! Thank you so much for joining me on this wild ride.
> 
> -Julia
> 
> EDIT: VERY IMPORTANT! If you're interested in a HSAU, go check out my tumblr because I have just posted something where you guys help me decide the plot based on what you want to see most! So head on over there if you're interested and check it out! It would mean the world to me!

**Author's Note:**

> foot cut- when your foot cuts, it means it slips off the hold unexpectedly. It's usually really hard to recover from and most of the time you end up falling.
> 
> dryfire- pretty much the same thing as a cut. usually your hand, it cuts from a hold so fast that you fall and usually take skin off because of how quickly you tore off the hold. really super painful and usually results in bloody fingers and torn skin.
> 
> barn door- you all know what a barn door looks like when it opens. it's pretty much the same thing with climbing, your foot or hand will cut and your whole body will swing one direction like a barn door. also pretty hard to stay on the wall from. you can recover from a barn door but it takes a lot of energy.
> 
> reading- a lot like book stuff, reading is where you look at the climb before you actually start climbing to figure out ahead of time how you're gonna do it. usually makes climbing easier
> 
> topping out- finishing the climb (you aren't allowed to fall at all in competitions, so if you top out, it means you make it to the top of the wall without falling. usually the climbs are set very hard for competitions so most climbers don't make it to the top of the walls)
> 
> hope this helped!
> 
> my tumblr is please-say-nine and I'm always accepting prompts/Ideas/whatever over there, whether about this or a different one of my pics or anything at all. please leave kudos if you like it and if you want the story to stick around, leave a comment! lov u guys


End file.
